I and rest opaque and still.
Your burn, tight grip, quick mind: you take what you desire,
And I never will.

I wane,
you leave nothing untouched, unmarred, intact.
The frost can kill and take as well, but life remains.
You made it all black.

You've burned, gone at last.
I flow, and leave a whiteness dressed, my mark, and cold--
"Close up! It comes again." Your heat is in the past,
But frost will not fold.